Hats Off to the Lady!

An illustration of a neighborhood grocery store.

Made a run to the grocery store today. Needed the basics:  juice, eggs, guacamole, salsa, & chips. And, of course, Dr. Pepper.  Several other items came home with me, and they're mostly all put up in the refrigerator & cupboards.

Here in the states, folks tend to dress very casually for grocery store runs. Blue jeans & tee shirts are the most common outfits you'll see here in Texas. Summer time brings out the cut offs, shorts, tank tops & flip-flops. Well, it's still winter time here in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, and today seemed a bit chilly with the low temperature at 40 degrees and the expected high at 53 degrees Fahrenheit. For most Texans that's the time to put on a pot of chili and rev up a roaring fire in the fireplace, keeping on their shorts and keeping the flip-flops near by.

Not so for one unique grocery store shopper. Not so, today.

She stood about five and one-half feet tall, with block high heels and black top hat. Her fur coat, imitation or real (I couldn't tell.) was knock-out, drop-dead gorgeous! The back was a chevron design of mixed colors & textures... white, black, reddish brown & gray. It graced her silhouette all the way down to her ankles, and it moved and shimmered as she walked down the aisles. She looked like she belonged on a fashion runway, certainly not the canned vegetable aisle.

I tried not to stare as I caught other glimpses of her in the store. The last time I saw her, she was at the checkout counter, waiting in line like the rest of us buggy-pushing people. In her hands she held one of those gossip tabloids. You know, the ones that are published weekly, the ones that are full of made-up stories. Her buggy held several items, so she had not run in for just one item, or two.

Her hat... oh, it was beautiful! The dome must have been wool fabric, and the extra-wide, extra-thick brim was black, luscious fiber/fur. Again, imitation fur or real, I don't know. But, it was stunning, and the perfect crown for a night on the town.

But... it wasn't night time, and it wasn't a fashion runway. It wasn't a party, and it wasn't freezing outside. It was just a trip to the grocery store at 1:00 o'clock in the afternoon, just a regular, neighborhood grocery store stuck on the corner between here & there.

Been thinking about her and what I learned as an observer who was wearing faded blue jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt.  Understand that I'm not at all jealous of what this woman owns. I have everything I need and want, and I don't covet her possessions or her lifestyle. I don't know her or anything about her. She just happened to be there when I was there.  I was just an observer.

This I did realize, though. I decided that if I had an outfit like hers, just when the heck could I wear it here in Texas? We have very few days below freezing, so there are very few times to bundle up. And just where the heck could I wear it? The Winspear Opera House?  Bass Hall? Reunion Tower? Country Clubs?

Yes, I guess, to all of the above, but I don't go to those places very often, and I'm not a member of a country club. But I've decided that, IF I did have a fabulous coat AND a magical hat like that, I'd wear it any dang place I wanted to. Why, girlfriend... I'd even wear to the grocery store.

So next time you go grocery shopping, you may see this lady. She may be strolling down the cereal aisle, or you may catch her reading the labels on the pet food aisle, or she may have a newspaper tabloid in hand. Don't fret a bit, and think nothing of it. Just enjoy the beauty of the moment and how that lady is enjoying what she owns. She's not saving the good stuff for later, or for her kids. She's making use of it now. Even if it is 53 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and even if she wears that coat only to the grocery store, you gotta' recognize that those refrigerator cases where they keep the juice & eggs are mighty, mighty danged cold. Brrr...

Lesson learned:  Use the good stuff... and enjoy it! I gotta' say... Hats off to the lady!

@Copyright 2019 Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Biscuits & Ice Cream

At our favorite fast-food dive, we finished our morning biscuits, then began to talk about ice cream... real, satisfying ice cream.  We're both under stress as caregivers for loved ones who live with us:  a husband with Alzheimer's and a mother who is wheel-chair bound.  So, food, comfort food, is an important conversation topic.

"I don't cook much anymore, because he's satisfied with just a sandwich, even peanut butter & jelly."

"Me, either.  But, I did open two cans of black-eyed peas last night.  Threw some sliced ham in the skillet, and they thought I had cooked a feast.  They're still talking about it this morning!"

"Did you ever find Blue Bell's Christmas Cookie that I told you about?"

"No, I gave up looking for it once I tried their Strawberry Pie flavor.  Oh, girl.... you were right.  It's to die for!"

"Well, I've got a half-gallon of it in the bottom of my chest freezer.  It's there for my son-in-law when he comes up to visit, and it's his favorite.  It will keep for up to six months.  I'll just let him get it himself, since he's so much taller than I am.  He will love me forever!"

"And, if he doesn't happen to come in the next few months, then you will just have to eat it.  Right?"

"Of course!"

We fiddled with our jelly wrappers then rolled our napkins placing them on the plastic tray.

"But I do have another carton in the freezer that I've saved just for emergencies, and last night I really needed it:  Chocolate Mint with the biggest chocolate chunks you've ever seen."

"Hmmmmm."

"But I couldn't reach it.  You know how far down the bottom of the ice chest is?  I thought I was going to fall in... really, I couldn't reach it.  So, I thought about that long-arm, grabber thingy (pinching fingers together), and I was ready to go get it, but I wasn't sure where it was.  So, I gave it one last try, and by golly, I did it... I got my finger nails under the rim of that lid and managed to get it out.  It was heaven."

"Hmmmm..."
"Hmmmm..."

After that, silence surrounded our little dining booth, and we sat there with goofy grins on our faces.  We sat there satisfied with the simple comforts of ice cream, morning breakfast biscuits and conversation with a good friend... a friend who really understood.  Life did not seem so difficult after all. 

Thank you, my friend...
Love,
Cindy



@Copyright  2012 Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Speaking of worms...

You won't believe what I found this morning... in my bed, under my pillow.   I found what no one expects to find, or ever, ever wants to find  under her pillow.  You might accept the concept of it fairly easily if you find it under your covers at your feet.  Maybe.  Most likely not.  You would think nothing of it if you were outdoors camping.  But, I found it at the top of my bed, precisely in the middle, under my pillow where you're supposed to find nice surprises like candy and pretty things, and money from the tooth fairy.

Isn't your bed supposed to be your sanctuary?  Your place of safety and shelter?  Isn't that where you run to when your world crashes?  Isn't that the place you rush to when you need to cry your eyes out, when your heart is broken and where you hide when you're afraid?  Isn't that your place, your space, your domain, your cradle of love?  Isn't that forbidden territory to all creatures unless invited???

Then tell me why, when, how, and who gave that worm permission to crawl under MY pillow?  Spit fire and toe nails!   I am disgusted, grossed out, and mad!  Now, I'm a girl that grew up in a rural neighborhood in Oklahoma, and I used to play with butterflies, bugs and even worms.  I played in the dirt and made mud pies of every shape and size.  I knew what every kind of manure looked like and smelled like.  I collected crawdads and  caterpillars and dug up earth worms for fish bait, and I even baited my own fish hooks.   I crammed crazy looking creatures into my pockets and carried these pets around with me all day.  But, this brown hairy, one & one half inch worm received no warm welcome from me. 

Times have changed, and so have I.  I live in Texas in a city surrounded by concrete.  I live in a house made of brick.  Oh, I am blessed.  I have a roof over my head, and it doesn't leak.  Oh, I am so blessed.  I sleep in a bed with clean white sheets and warm covers to blanket me.  Yes, I am truly blessed.   I sleep on a mattress that's soft, and my pillow even softer.  I sleep in a bed up off the floor with critters on the outside and me on the inside, or so I thought.

Today's invasion crossed the line of no return.  Judge and jury I became.  Today's critter received no mercy.  Ignoring forbidden boundaries, this worm wiggled and wormed its way into my cozy bed, under my downy, soft pillow, on my clean white sheets, and slept soundly... once.  Only once. 

Now he sleeps in peace. Forever!

As they now say here in my house, and for years have said in my beloved state of  Texas.... "don't mess with Texas!"

Sincerely becoming more and more of a crazy old lady, and surprisingly... enjoying it!

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Massage

Originally posted January, 2012...

I sort of staggered out of the spa.  My legs were jello, and my mind like mush. But, wow... what a massage!

It was a gift to myself.  Premeditated.  Deliberate.  Cleansing.  I've only had three in my entire life, and I assure you, that is not enough.  I will go back.  I will return.  But, not today.

No, today I am recovering from that massage.  Nobody had told me to drink lots of water afterwards.  The therapist handed me a cup of cold water after the treatment, but I thought it was just a gracious gesture.  I poured it out in the bathroom.  (Which, by the way, I had wondered halfway through the massage, if I could make it through the hour WITHOUT going to the bathroom.)

Then I drove, (yes, I operated  heavy machinery), to Starbuck's and ordered "something dreamy-creamy", as I told the kid. "I just had a massage and I need 'something' ".  He suggested green tea, strong green tea, but I opted for coffee, decaf, and decided on the pumpkin spice, no whipped cream.  He looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, and I really don't remember walking back to the car.  But, I must have because I ended up at a friend's house, and she and I chatted about... about... hmmm, well... I really don't remember that either.

I did tell her that my experience was "wonderful", and she should try it.  She looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, but, we both chuckled, well, sort of.  I did my best to calm her qualms about half-stripping, crawling under the covers, and allowing someone "experienced" to rub their oily hands all over her body.  I reassured her that the dim lights, and the soft, mood music just made it that much easier to relax.

Not so sure that I had convinced her, but convinced I had given it my all, I swigged my last drop of coffee and asked to use her bathroom.  It had only been thirty minutes ago that I staggered into the spa's bathroom, but never mind.  When a bathroom is handy, take advantage of it.  Right?  That's what Mama always said.

Now feeling good about myself, and so glad that I had finally done something for "me", I reached for the soap and glanced in the mirror.  Oh, my GOSH!  Double... double.. GOOD GOSH!  What in the world had happened to me? 

I stared at mascara and eye shadow streaks all down my face, rubbed off makeup exposing my naked face, smushed-crushed bangs sticking to my forehead, and my "Come-here" coral lipstick smeared all over my chin.  I looked like... well... I looked like.. well... I looked like crap!

No wonder that kid at Starbucks looked at me so funny!  No wonder my friend looked at me questioningly!  No wonder I couldn't talk her into a massage!!!  No wonder, indeed!!!

The mirror didn't lie.  It never does.  "Well, what do you do now, Cindy Lou, you fool?"

Nothing... nothing at all, but laugh and crawl out of the bathroom and beg for mercy and a make-over!  Thank goodness this was a long-time, dear, understanding friend who loves me and accepts me for who I am, regardless of what I look like.  We laughed and laughed, and laughed until we cried.  And then, I went home, and I laughed some more.

Now, that I look back at that afternoon of surprises, I can see that I've learned quite a lot about life and massages.  I whole-heartily recommend message therapy by a trained professional. It's a healing experience for body and soul.  Just be prepared, better than I was:

Wear minimal make-up. I had forgotten that you lay face-down which is hard on a made-up face. 

Be aware that you may cry.  I did:  big tears that I couldn't stop.

Afterwards, drink lots of water.   Yes, it makes you go "potty", but that's a good thing.

Then, go straight home.  Do not go into any  Starbuck's.  Do not pass "Go".  Do not go visit a friend.  Go straight home!

And, finally... this is very important... for heaven's sake, before you leave the spa, before you say "good-bye", before you face the world... look in the mirror!!!

Now... go book yourself a massage, and call me afterwards.  I want to hear ALL about it!

Sincerely me,  always me, and re-discovering me...
Cindy Lou

p.s.  
Laugh, laugh, laugh... and, allow others to join in!  It's so much more fun with a buddy! 



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Peanut Butter Crispies

Here's a fall snack that's extremely easy to prepare.  My suggestion:  buy 2 boxes of Rice Chex cereal because these disappear before you know it!

1 cup white Karo syrup
1 cup white granulated sugar
1 cup peanut butter, creamy or crunchy
1 box Rice Chex cereal


Simplest Directions:  melt the sugar, syrup & peanut butter in a big sauce pan.   Add cereal.  Stir until coated.  Pour out in mounds.  Let cool.

My Way:  Pour out half the cereal into a large mixing bowl.  In sauce pan, combine karo syrup and sugar until melted together.  Stir in peanut butter until well blended. Pour half of peanut butter syrup over cereal.  Quickly add remaining cereal, then syrup mixture.  Stir until cereal is coated. Scoop spoonful sizes onto wax paper.  Let cool.  Store in airtight container to stay fresh.


This is a delicious light snack that my niece shared at our family reunion.  It's very difficult to eat just one, so beware... it is addictive!

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Dear Dimple: Twisties

Dear Dimple Dilemma,

Where have all the twisties gone?  You know, those little three inch wire things covered with paper?  Whenever I am at the grocery store, bagging my fruits & vegetables, I reach for a twistie, but the container is empty!  So, I move on down the aisle to another roll of plastic bags to get a twistie, but there aren't any there either!  Then, when I am at home, toasting a piece of bread or two... I reach for the twistie that I just took off the loaf of bread... but, it's gone!  I can't find it anywhere!

So, tell me... What on earth happens to all the twisties?  Is it just me or are there "twistie thieves" out among us?

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


Dear Cindy Lou,

Rest assured, dear, that you are not the only one that has twistie troubles.  Why, I, too, suffer with the same stressful situation.  However, there have been a few times that I hit the jackpot at the grocery store and happened upon full cups of white, or yellow, or black, or green or even gold twisties.  When that happens, it is time to take action.

Do as I do... go to the store early in the day.  Your chances of finding a full cup are greater in the morning; Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Wednesday... as many days as it takes to find them.   When you do finally see the prized trophies, grab all you can, and cram them into your purse.  Did I mention you should take your biggest purse with you?  Or, if that bothers your conscious, you can wrap not just one twistie, but several twisties around your filled produce bag.  If you use a dozen twisties, you can turn them into a pretty little flower.  :)


Now, for your situation at home, gremlins or ghosts take the twistie as soon as you take your eyes & hands off of it.  They, too, suffer with a shortage of twisties.  So, for Pete's sake... smarten up and don't ever turn loose of your twistie!   That's the golden rule of the kitchen.... twisties are like gold in your pocket!  But, if that fails, and you just can't keep track of that one twistie, try duct tape.  It now comes in a rainbow of colors, and you can even color coordinate with your kitchen!

And finally, if none of the above suggestions work for you, come on over to my house.  I have outsmarted the conniving, little twistie thieves, and  I just happen to have some white ones, some yellow ones, some black ones, some green ones and even some gold ones.... Yep... I have a cupboard full!

Lovingly,
Dimple Dilemma


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Car Wash Blues

Today I got the car washed.
'Twas a big, big job

'cause it was really dirty.

It had caked-on blobs...

Blobs of greasy, grimy dirt

and lots and lots of mud.
Boy, was that car dirty
with the slush and slime and crud...

Crud from all the city streets,

the ones they're working on
with the trenchers and the asphalt.
Oh, when will they be gone?

Gone to other streets in town

so someone else can sob,

Cindy Lou

"Today I got the car washed...

'Twas a big, big job!"


@Copyright 1988, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Store

Yesterday I shopped.
Yesterday I bought
shiny, bright and blingy things
and boldly printed tops.

Oh, they were so pretty.
They made me feel so good.
Then when at home and all alone
I thought that "Yes, I should..."

Model them and check them out
and try them on to see
which one of them I should wear first,
which one was best for me.

But something weird had happened.
It still confuses me:
Neither one was half the fun,
and both were quite UGG-LY.

No matter how I tugged or pulled
or beautifully accessorized,
those tops were bad.  It made me sad,
and then I realized...

The tags were there, were still intact.
I still had my receipt.
I didn't have to keep them.
This was no defeat.

So, back I'd go, with bag in hand
and a smile upon my face.
For now I get to shop again.
Gee, I love this place!

And once again when tomorrow comes,
when the dawn presents its day,
awakenings may happen.
Perhaps you'll hear me say...

"Yesterday I shopped.
Yesterday I bought
shiny, bright and blingy things
and boldly printed tops."

And, the beat goes on because some of us keep doing our part...

Sincerely a true story,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Earring mystery solved!

"Eureka!  Eureka!  The lost is found!"
So happy am I... I shall expound!

I'm dancin' a jog and singin' a jig.
I found my earrings... those thingamajigs!!!

Whoop-de-doo's and la-de-da's.
I'm raisin' a ruckus and hoo-hoo-rah's!

Hidden they were.  Out of sight.
Discovered today to my delight!

"Bling!  Bling!"  My heart does sing.
"I found them today... two heart earrings!"


After five years of wondering what had happened to them, they appeared!  I found them tucked away in their little cloth bag, in a box of dirty socks.  That's right... phew, dirty socks!

This box has been in the bottom of the closet for a long, long time:  totally ignored for years.  But recently I moved it to the laundry room, and today I actually dealt with the undesirable.  Little did I know that I was involved in a treasure hunt... one that had such delight as its reward.

So, pardon me while I smile.  Please, pardon me while I glee.
It's just that they were gone.  Now, they've come back to me.

"Eureka!  Eureka!"  I do expound.
So happy am I... The lost is found!!!

Joy! Joy!  Tucked in a box.
A box of hearts and dirty socks!!!


Love days like this,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Monday Morning's Rascal

Strange noise outside my breakfast room window this morning:  It was up to me to solve the unsolved mystery.  No one else even knew the possible danger that lurked between me and the two thin sheets of plate glass.  Everyone else in the house still slumbered and dreamed of yesterday's chicken enchiladas smothered with thick, smooth sour cream sauce.

With coffee pot in hand I inched towards the window, following the sounds.  It could be a cat.  Creatures like that do prowl my deck:  those, as well as opossums.  It could be a rat, but with the noise so loud, the rat would have to be inside.  Negative... don't even think that.  I'd rather it be a person out on the deck instead of a rat inside.

Backing up, I decided maybe I better finish making my coffee and get the glass pot out of my hand.  I just might drop it if startled, and common sense told me a cup of coffee might help me decipher just what was going on.  Besides, if it were a burglar... maybe he would GO AWAY, and I wouldn't have to subdue him.  Anyway, I'd hate to have to deal with the police before I put on my make-up.  They might arrest me for something similar to indecency.

Scratchy noise?  Not really.  Rustling noise?  Well, sort of.  It would sound off, then stop, as if waiting for a response.  I was not the one to answer, for I was the investigator.  Listening and looking were my tasks, and I took my job seriously.  The safety of my household depended upon me, and I, a solitary woman demanded an answer!

With nothing in hand, for the coffee was slow to drip, I armed myself with hands on hips and inched forward to the window.  Fear pulsed through my veins:  courage through my arteries.  I wasn't prepared for what I saw.  For there was nothing to see, but a robin.  I backed off and waited.  Surely the intruder would strike again, and I would catch it in the act.  Patience was my game, and I, Superwoman, would outlast the culprit and, save the day.

"There it is, again!", I whispered to myself.  "What is it?"  With steady eyes and ears attuned, I caught it in the act and witnessed first hand its trespassing deed.  It thrashed about giving its all to its mind-boggling purpose.  Determination defied the odds, and common sense it had not.  It unleashed its flurry as feathers flew, and my window clouded over with feathered dust.  That pitiful little robin kept bopping into my window, and my heightened senses felt sorry for the creature, but sorrier for myself since I had just cleaned that window two days earlier, and had waited a year to do so!

By gosh, and by darn... here I had revved up my super powers to conquer the world, at least the enemy outside, and now the enemy was no bigger than yesterday's lunch.  Super powers were not necessary at all:  just wasted energy.

With something very special muttered by my mouth, my hands flew up to shoo away the rascal.  As he flew away, my "uncaffeined" brain can't confirm what I saw, but with wings outstretched and a glint in its eye, I'd swear that that pesky little robin, that pretty little orange-breasted creature gave me a wave and a good bye sign...  one seen out on the highways and byways of life.  I'm not sure which one of us felt more stupid:  the bird that gave me "the bird"... or me.

Alas... what a way to to start a new day.  Guess even Super Women make enemies...

Looking for the Windex,
Cindy Lou

I told my husband about the robin and its strange behaviour. He said that he's familiar with the bird's activity of flying into the glass. It seems to happen only in the morning, and he suspects that the robin sees his reflection in the window and considers it a threat. Therefore, the sign language I saw was not meant for me, but rather for the other bird!

Gotta' love it!!!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Clothesline

I enjoy my living room with its gold, amber & crimson colors.  The visual warmth surrounds me and welcomes me onto its cushions and beckons me to stay awhile.  Except for this morning!

He told me that he had washed a load of laundry and spread it out for it to finish drying, and that it was in the living room on the love seat.  (That's our modern day clothesline around here, that, and the sofa.)   This is normal at my house because I have a husband who knows how to do laundry and doesn't seem to mind doing it.  Fortunate am I.  Entertained, also.  The laundry load was "whites":  his underwear & our socks.  I know you're already thinking that he mixed colors in with the whites, but that's not so.  He is very good at the job, and today's story takes a different direction, so just sit back and let me continue.

In my morning stupor, I rambled through the house waking up, and my mind drifted back to my real clothesline days in Duncan, Oklahoma.  My parents, brother and I lived on the northern edge of town on five acres with a big front yard.  Tall oak and blackjack trees dotted the fence line and a few peach trees stood between the oaks and the big, long clothesline. Even with the trees, the view of the clothesline was quite public and anything on display there was like a giant checkered flag waving at all passersby calling, "Look at me.  Look at me!"

I thought nothing of it until I became a "developing" young woman.  Now, I am certain that I didn't do my fair share of laundry or other household chores, but it when it came time to hang out the clothes, I just nearly died when I had to hang out my brother's & daddy's  underwear and mama's & my  panties and  bras.  I always saved them for the last, and I always did my best to hide them, pinning them on the middle of the three wire lines with the towels, sheets & such hanging on the outer lines.  I even tried double & triple layering items, but they took forever to dry.  When I was out there, I worked as fast as I could, hoping no one would see me or notice the "underwear" flapping in the breeze.

You need to understand that this was before we had a real clothes dryer, and we weren't the only family who used nature to dry our clothes.  But, it seems to me that we had the longest clothesline in town, and this girl wanted to be like my uptown girlfriends who finished their laundry inside.  I remember when the city changed our street name from North 10th to Country Club Road, how excited I was about now being a "city girl".  But when I had to hang out clothes, my embarrassment quadrupled!  How could we be so "country" when we lived on a city street called "Country Club Road"???  "Why couldn't we get a dryer like normal people???"  "Why? Why? Why?"  Mama & Daddy paid no attention to my whining.  They just smiled when they handed me a laundry basket of wet, clean clothes and pushed me out the door.

Just so you'll know I'm not completely dumb, I finally did realize that I could hang the lady garments inside over the bathtub.  That was a small victory for pride, and such an easy solution.  It just took me several years to figure it out, though... some of us folks are just kind of slow at progress, and I guess I'm one of them. 

Golly, that was about forty years ago.  And, now, I'm back to the present time.  I thought what a neat story I could write about my husband's string of white undies spread all over the living room love seat.  But, when I walked in with my camera to capture the vision, he had already removed half of the proof.  When he realized what I was doing, he blocked my camera shot, and then he shamed me for making fun of his efforts to help with the laundry.  We laughed, and I teased him about putting it all back so I could show you how funny it all looked, but he didn't seem to think it was too funny.  Now, that's funny! 

So here I sit, telling it all, and this may be the last time he washes my socks.  It may take me a few years to figure out why, since some of us folks are just kind of  slow at progress, and I guess I'm one of them... but, oh... what fun!

Since I have no picture to show you, just use your imagination.  Stark white men's underwear (drawers, as we used to say) and white socks of all shapes & sizes strewn across the Mediterranean love seat.  A vision of oxymorons, or let me say... oxipowders!

Pardon me while I continue...
You may pick one of the following as my closing line:

Cheers to the clotheslines of now & then!
Hip-hip hoorays to those who get my Dreft!

May the Tide of change be easy for All!

Blessed are those who are Downy and hung out to dry.

Wisking you easy stain removal as you Shout your colors loud & strong.

May Gain restrain your Arm & Hammer.

Resolve to Bounce back to days of Ivory Snow.

May clean laundry be yours as you Spray & Wash, Purex & Clorox.

and my favorite...

Snuggles  to you!

Laughing and looking feverishly for my clean, white socks...

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

The Sugar Attack

"Oh, please, something be in the pantry."  Slam went the door.  "Oh, please... maybe in this cupboard?"  Slam-bang went that door.  "Gosh, there better be something in here...  Somethinggg!"  Groceries toppled off the shelves as I ransacked the freezer.  Frozen layers of forgotten possibilities tumbled to my feet, but even amidst all that jumble of food, there was nothing sweet to eat!

No cookies.  No cake.  No ice cream.  No pie.
Nothin' that's sweet.  Oh, no.  Oh, my!
Off to the bakery.  Off to the store.
Off to the drive-through.  Off through the door.

Out in a flurry, a scurry to find
the thrill for these taste buds, the gooey kind.
My gut is a cravin' something that's sweet.
Can't stop til I find it, can't stop til I eat...

Cookies or cake, ice cream or pie.
Out of my way.  I have pop tarts to buy!
Sugar Pops, donuts, things on a stick,
lemon drops, fudge plops.  Show me them, quick!

Attack, I tell ya... Call the armed guards.
I'm being attacked by my own petard.
T'was just a simple d'sire for dessert,
but that one little desire drove me berserk!

Now, my kitchen's a wreck.  The doors are askew.
The floor is piled high with frozen miscue's
And still there are...
No cookies.  No cake.  No ice cream.  No pie.
And nothin' that's sweet.  Oh, no.  Oh, my!
               --- Cindy Lou Hodges, Copyright 2010

And that's the truth!  Well, sort of...
At the end of my plundering, I did find something nice in my pantry:  a can of cream cheese flavored cake frosting.  Oh, yeh... it was a delicious experience!



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Hark!

Bark.  Bark.
Bark, bark, bark.
Hark!  I hear a bark.

Harp.  Harp.
Harp, harp, harp.
Hark!  I hear a harp.

Wouldn't it be nice someday,
since there are barks and harps,
if we could train our ears to hear
the harps instead of barks?
              -- Cindy Lou Hodges, Copyright 1988

Twenty-two years later:  the second verse...

Yak, yak.
Yak, yak, yak.
Yak, I did just yak.

Attack, Attack.
Atack, tack, tack.
Attack, my yak slapped back.  Ouch!

Some lessons take a lifetime to learn, huh? 
Laughing at myself,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved.

No Time to Play

No time to play today.
No time to stay
ling'ring on the Internet.
Efficiency today!

Can't check my emails
forty times today.
Can't glob on blog spot.
Can't say what I want to say.

Cause there's...
No time to play today.
No time to stay
ling'ring on the Internet...

What a wicked, wicked day!


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved